Mercenaries
by InsanityTalisman
Summary: In Sigil, the City of Doors, a reluctant protagonist, weary of life and bored with his existence, is drawn into a dangerous quest. If the perils of the journey do not kill him, then it will likely be his companions that cause his name to be penned in the dead-book.


The heavy steel door swings open and Baatorian warpipes blare their eerie, screeching melody. I don't bother to look up and continue perusing the ancient text set before me on the cluttered countertop.

"Welcome to The Truce of Magic and Arms, where all your magical weaponry needs can be met," I mutter disinterestedly, fully immersed in a book containing accounts of dragon mating rituals from the backwater prime Toril.

"Tch! One of 'ese turns, I'm gunna break this case of yours and destroy those thrice-damned lizard tubes!"

I lazily flip a page and study a faded, but an amazingly explicit, depiction of draconic consummation. "I wouldn't recommend it. You can pick nearly any lock, Zent, but the wards I have in place would surely kill you."

My visitor hisses in annoyance, and then I hear a thunderous clattering as several of my expensive, hand-crafted weapons crash to the floor. I sigh and cast a spell to right my merchandise, again considering the pros and cons of adding a sticking charm to the protections, a charm that would have to be removed and renewed on each item I presented to a potential customer.

"Do you have a purpose for being here? Other then to irritate me, of course," I snap and finally glance up at my guest, a small, emaciated tiefling who is glaring at me with a feral grin that shows off her sharp teeth to good effect.

Her tail flicks back and forth and she tilts her head to the side, giving me a measuring look that I know very well from experience is never a good sign. "Speaking of gettin' put in the dead-book, I've got a lucrative business proposition for ya."

"No," I respond immediately and return to my reading.

"Wait just a minute, you stupid, scarred-up hagspawn! You haven't even heard the chant on it yet!"

"Nor do I want to, so you may as well leave right now and go find another leather-headed berk to tangle up in whatever mad scheme you have planned."

"I've 'ready got lots of leather-headed berks willin' ta go with me to Limbo! All I need is your o'ersized brain-box ta shape the chaos soup!" she snarls and lashes out at a display case. Her fist rebounds off of the enchanted glass and she draws her punch daggers, slashing at it and growling when the surface remains unblemished.

I shake my head and roll my eyes at her antics. Against my better judgment, I question, "What do you hope to gain in Limbo?"

She ceases her attack on the inanimate object, lowering her chin and gazing up at me in what would be a beguiling manner if I were not so familiar with her. "Well now, cutter, you jus' have ta come with me an' find out."

I stare at her, waiting for an elaboration on the matter, while she stares right back with a wide-eyed innocence that I don't believe for an instant. The seconds past by in total silence in the gloom of my humble shop, the sparse light flickering and casting shadows over her features, features that would never be lovely, but possessed a certain wild charisma.

Groaning softly, I slam the book shut, cracking the fragile cover.

Zent tosses her beaded hair and the decorations clack against one another as she crows in delight, recognizing her victory in my simple, angry gesture.

* * *

After agreeing to meet in the Market Ward at the Dark Sigh, an establishment that catered to the more fiendishly bent and at which Zent assured me our traveling companions were waiting, thus confirming my suspicions that she had been convinced beforehand that I would accompany her on this excursion, I set about preparing for my departure. I dig out a high-quality bag of holding from the unholy stacks upon stacks of various knickknacks that were piled inside my storage room, barely avoid being buried in the mess, and head upstairs to my personal chambers to gather the supplies I would no doubt require. With that done, I reinforce the wards and add a few more nasty and potentially fatal traps to the interior before exiting the building.

Stepping out into the smog-filled air of the Lower Ward, I turn and absently trail my eyes over the soot-covered, crumbling façade of the store. I spent years treasure-seeking and carrying out dangerous mercenary work in order to afford it, and my mind wanders now, as it often does, to contemplation of my own intentions, to what I want out of this existence.

I mentally shake myself and scoff, "I'm becoming no better than a barmy Bleaker… Tout! I need a tout here!"

Almost at once, a young, scruffy boy runs up but maintains a cautious distance from me, asking, "What'd ya need, sirrah?"

I remove a sealed letter from my pocket and hold it out to the child. "Take this to the Shattered Temple and deliver it to Factol Terrance." The boy hesitates, so I add, "It's worth twenty copper pieces, and if you must, simply give it to a guard at the entrance." I offer the money in my other hand, and that seems to decide him, as he grabs both and darts off in the direction of the Athar's headquarters.

Satisfied, although not certain, that my message will reach my Factol, I make my way to a little-known door that takes a body straight to the Great Bazaar, mainly used by Indeps. At the entry of an alleyway running along side one of the numerous decrepit structures in the Ward, I scan the crowd until I am sure I am not being watched and walk down the passage. I come to stand in front of a dirty barrel full of brackish water. I tap the liquid within and utter, "It's not a teapot." Energy flares and crackles, forming a fluctuating portal through which I can see the tiny, murky outline of a cobblestone street. I carefully hoist myself up onto the frame and force my bulk down into the opening of the barrel.

Dropping like a brick, I land heavily on an avenue teeming with people and nearly on top of a bariaur, who whirls around and brandishes his poleaxe at me. He takes in my appearance and slowly lowers his weapon. I smile slightly and he snorts a bit uneasily before turning to carry on without a word. Giving a brief glance over my surroundings, I begin heading towards my destination, nimbly dodging the multitude of stands filled with every ware imaginable, merchants haggling with their customers, canny and clueless adventurers, peery thieves, and filthy beggars.

The Dark Sigh is named for the peculiar wailing that can faintly be heard within its walls. There are many rumors as to what this sound originates from, but the most probable explanation is a permanent door to Pandemonium located in a closed-off room of the bar. As there are few addle-coved enough to visit that plane, no serious attempt has ever been made to discover the dark of it. I enter the dismal atmosphere of the tavern and look around for Zent in the dim light.

"Hey! Idiot son of a lemur-bitten whore! Over here!" a gruff voice calls out from a shadowy alcove in the far corner of the building, startling several of the patrons and causing them to shoot glares in that direction.

My sight effortlessly focuses on the five figures gathered at one of the ill-kept tables and I freeze once I identify the speaker, seriously considering walking right back out into the street. I deliberate for a moment, sigh in frustration, and then move across the sticky, worn planks to join them.

"Take a seat! Teltos saved you one." The dwarf leans towards me as though sharing a secret. "But I think the crazy nag wanted to make it a snack!" He issues a boisterous guffaw and the bariaur at his side mimics him.

My eye twitches and I regard the four-legged Xaositect priest with distaste. "Please tell me that we are not bringing a Chaosman to Limbo, Dumanar."

"Into the plane, we the name of Erevan Ilesere travel glory of, to bring Chaos, to spread chaos in!" Teltos exclaims, rearing up and bringing his front hooves down on the wood with a sharp report that draws more angry grumbling from the clientele.

I feel a headache begin to form in the back of my skull at the scrambled syntax, and I question shortly, "Where is Zent?"

"I do not know where the tiefling is, but if she does not arrive in haste, I shall leave. The time of our appointment was peak and it is over an hour past."

I turn my attention to the stoical prime warrior. "Claudia, tell me what Zent has told you about this venture."

She sniffs in disdain and responds coolly, "Only that we are to travel to the plane of Chaos, and that there will be significant danger on our journey. A fitting test of mettle, I say."

Fighting to control my growing rage, I look to the silent elf sitting slightly apart from the others. "Greetings, Haer'danis."

"Greetings, plane-touched."

"Do you know what the purpose of our trip to Limbo is?"

"No."

I pinch the bridge of my nose and then finally acknowledge the drunken halfling that sits astride Teltos, who has persisted in waving at me ever since I was first spotted by their little dysfunctional group. "Hello, Melluun."

"Hi!" She stops waving and wraps the arm over Teltos' shoulder, whispering in his long, tapered ear and garnering a lascivious gaze in return.

As usual, I refuse to let my mind ponder the exact mechanics involved in the relationship between the diminutive woman and her insane partner, and decide to not even bother questioning her for the sake of my own sanity. I take a seat with as much dignity as I can, given the circumstances.

"Barkeep! Bring my friend some Baatorian firewater!" Dumanar shouts after a brief period of blessed silence. He invades my personal space with no care and breathes alcohol fumes in my face. "Don't worry about the cost, basher, it's on me."

"The bartender in this horrid place does not bring the refreshments to you. Instead, you must go to him. It is outrageous," Claudia points out and we both ignore her.

I stare evenly at the dwarven mage and say, "Fine, but keep your voice lowered or we are going to find ourselves at the wrong end of several fiendish blades."

The dwarf scoffs, not appearing impressed in the slightest. "Ha! I'd like to see those rat-tailed, bat-winged outsiders, with the intelligence no better than a dim-witted, clueless prime that's spent a decade wandering the Grey Wastes, try it!"

During his short tirade, the heated murmuring increases and I notice two customers rise from their seats, gesturing to each other and then at us. Before I am able to admonish him again, our fearless leader swaggers into the bar.

"Hey! Starved gutter-rat with the attention span of an Arborean gnat! Over here!"

"Rhymes!" Teltos cries out in ecstasy. "Rhymes the dwarf with a fourth of a land in endless peril!"

"Hey too, ya gormless midget that's always flinging 'bout your silly magic tricks!" Zent yells back in greeting.

I drop my head into my hands in exasperation. Blowing out a long-suffering breath, I leisurely stand and watch the pair of fiends that are now advancing on our table. I sense Zent come to a stop at my back, standing close and radiating pent-up energy.

In an undertone, I murmur, "Stay quiet, all of you, _please_."

"Bar that. 'Ese berks are spoilin' for a fight and I'll give it ta them," she hisses at me.

"We provoked them," I growl.

"What? I don't see any 'no speaking' decrees pinned to the damned walls!" Dumanar says indignantly, getting up from his chair and cracking his knuckles.

I eye the fiends, one of which is certainly an incubus, while the other appears as a normal human, but her demonic aura is unmistakable. Both radiate malevolence as they approach and in my peripheral vision, I see Claudia and Haer'danis rise and ready their weapons. Teltos pulls his battleaxe from his harness while Melluun idly swings her broadsword and her feet from atop her perch on his back.

"We are not looking for trouble," I state in a final attempt to prevent the imminent violence.

"Like the screaming, blood-soaked layers of the Abyss, we're not!" The dwarf finishes off the contents of his tankard, tosses it to the ground, and then settles himself into an unsteady battle stance.

"These ones look as though they need to be taught respect, do they not, Ganosh?" asks the slender beauty, glancing coyly at her companion.

Ganosh laughs huskily and rearranges his wings into a more comfortable position. "Yes, I believe they do, mistress."

Teltos moves out from the table and begins to chant "brawl" over and over in an excited whisper.

"Ain't that funny? I was jus' thinking 'bout ripping off those ugly growths ya got on ya back, you know, ta do ya a favor and all."

"Enough of this!" the incubus roars and launches himself at the mouthy tiefling.

I sidestep and allow Zent to engage him in combat, keeping my sight set on the beautiful woman, who watches the scene with obvious amusement. There is something about her that raises my hackles, a faint scent that triggers a warning in the back of my mind.

An incendiary blast explodes close to my right and I throw up an elemental shield to protect myself from the flames. "Dumanar! Cast precise, targeting spells, you idiot!"

"Pike off, I'm having fun!" He cackles and holds out his palms, on which dozens of tiny, razor-sharp spikes form and then fly towards his opponent in a broad scattershot that does more damage to the surrounding furniture than his target.

I survey the fight that is obviously not in the favor of the single tanar'ri. The elven ranger has chosen an inconspicuous corner, and unable to effectively wield his longbow, is serenely lining up and letting loose stilettos that unerringly slice into the flesh of the incubus. Claudia is waving her absurdly massive war club in the air like a snake preparing to strike, gauging the enemy's movements with intense concentration. Her muscles draw taut and she swings with all of her strength, dealing a glancing blow, the force of which knocks the fiend to the floor and carries through to smash into a support beam, fracturing the stout wood and shaking apart bits of the ceiling. The mad bariaur gleefully pounces, slashing with abandon and jabbing his hooves down onto the fallen combatant, while his halfling rider leans around his torso and stabs with her sword in a strange harmony to his axe, mainly missing her mark and instead cutting furrows into the floorboards. Zent circles and dances about them, looking for an opening to attack.

"Are you just going to stand there like the idiot, halfwit spawn of a night hag that you are?" Dumanar questions and then drains the mug that he likely stole from one of the neighboring tables, the occupants of which have either vacated the bar or joined the throng observing the brawl from the perimeter.

"My great, great, great grandmother was a night hag; that barely makes me a spawn of one," I respond distractedly and glance again at the woman behind me. My intuition is now screaming, but I am still not able to discern exactly why.

"Bah!" The dwarf spits and waves a dismissive hand, moving to rejoin his comrades.

The battered fiend is soon injured too severely to continue to attack or even defend himself. Panting, snarling, and bleeding profusely, he looks to the delicate female that remains motionless with no noticeable reaction to his defeat, and he reaches in a beseeching manner towards her. "Mistress…"

"You disappoint me, Ganosh."

"No! Mistress, please, there are too many of them!"

Zent snickers and licks some of the blood off her daggers. "Should'a thought of that before 'and, don't ya think?"

An overwhelming rush of power surges throughout the room as the cheers and heckles of the patrons change into screams and the pounding of fleeing footsteps. I slowly turn around, drag my eyes up the heavily-ridged body of the demon, and gaze at the vaguely canine-like visage that now towers high above me. For a moment, terror seizes my brain and I cannot even muster a coherent thought. The hideous creature forms a sickening imitation of a smile, and then is suddenly in front of the other fiend, tearing the incubus in half in a shower of blood and internal organs as though he were no sturdier than a piece of parchment.

"Glabrezu! Run!" I shout, already running for the exit without pausing to see if my instruction is heeded.

I dart out the door and into the crowded streets of the Market Ward, sprinting at a breakneck speed through the swarms of oblivious cagers and knocking more than a few to the side in my haste. There is a thunderous cacophony from behind me and I risk a glance over my shoulder, only to skid to a halt in surprise as the roof of the Dark Sigh seems to peel up from the walls supporting it before crashing back down and flattening the entire structure. As the noise dies and the dust settles, I make out five faint silhouettes moving away from the rubble and I shake my head in amazement.

"How?" I ask simply once they reach me.

"Come now, cowardly cutter, I've got more than one trick up my vest." Zent bares her teeth and winks.

"Artifact of power, shiny as the loudest sound of death," Teltos sighs breathlessly, shifting his weight rapidly from hoof to hoof and dancing to music only he could hear.

"Exactly, Telt. Let's go! Don't wanna be 'round if the Lady shows up and takes offense to us razing part of 'er city." She traces a semicircle over her heart with one finger and spits on the ground.

"Wait, 'us'?" I scoff.

She links her arm with mine and grins mischievously up at me. "Yep, you and me, Truce, we're a team."

I know I am being played, but I can't fight the smile that tugs up the corners of my lips as I gaze down at her.

"So why'd ya run? Never seen you run before."

I answer her with a question of my own, "Have you ever been captured and tortured by a glabrezu?"

"No… How's it?"

Shaking my head, I remain silent and absently listen to Claudia and Dumanar boast about their battle prowess, while Haer'danis trails several paces behind meticulously cleaning his blades. Lost in my thoughts, it takes me longer than it should to realize that a deep rumbling is building and resonating outwards from the demolished bar.

"Are you sure that the demon is dead?"

"One that strong? Probably not, jus' really pissed off."

"I see. Do you have another 'artifact of power'?"

"Nope."

"Where is the portal we are taking to Limbo?"

"Near the Clerk's Ward, spireward of the Singing Vortex."

"Alright… On my count, everyone needs to run."

"What? More running? By the unholy Lords of Nine, the red prison of-" The dwarf is mercifully cut short as the wreckage blasts apart behind us and a piercing shriek that threatens to burst my eardrums echoes along the busy street, drawing the nervous attention of those passing by.

"Now!" I yank on Zent's arm and take off in a dead run, my feet barely touching the ground.

I weave and dash through narrow corridors in an attempt to lose the glabrezu, an effort I am aware is futile, but may still buy enough time to reach the gate to Limbo. The others, except for Teltos, struggle to keep up with us and the sound of pursuit continues to grow as the true tanar'ri begins to merely smash through any obstacles in its way. A store to my left explodes, pelting me with debris, and I hear Claudia cry out in pain. Zent and I jump over a large block of stone that falls before us and the tiefling stumbles to her knees upon landing. As I haul her up, a body flies through the air over our heads and with terrifying force, collides with a wall and splatters in wet lumps of indistinguishable flesh on the road. I stare at the carcass for a moment, and then look back to the glabrezu standing at the mouth of the alleyway, growling and appearing unharmed. It roars in delight when it sees that its quarry has halted.

I release Zent and push her away. "Go to the portal. I will catch up with you."

"Tch! Don't go playing hero now, ya ugly-"

"Go now!" I snarl and grab onto her shoulder, giving her a shake and shoving her hard enough that she staggers.

The glare she directs at me is pure venom. "Fine! Not gunna mourn ya thrice-damned corpse when you're a deader being trussed up by the dusties! If there's even 'nough of ya left ta make some jink for the collectors, 'at is." She turns and stalks off without a single glance back, and her ragtag band of misfits quickly moves to follow.

Dumanar pauses as he walks past and cuffs me affectionately on the arm. "I'll be meeting you in the Abyss, brainless piker of a githyanki spectral hound, and probably sooner than later. Whether I'll be dead or not, only the powers can guess."

Pressing a hand against a bloody gash on her side, Claudia states, "Go forth and greet your glorious demise unflinchingly."

"Of course," I deadpan and return a nod from Haer'danis.

"See you in hell!" Melluun shouts and laughs maniacally in chorus with her Xaositect lover.

I watch as they disappear around a bend in the passage and listen to the rumble of the now unhurried advance of the powerful fiend.

"Tainted one, I shall greatly enjoy peeling the flesh from your bones, layer by layer, as you scream and beg until your throat bleeds raw and you can no longer make a sound, only twitch and choke while the weak vessel that contains your essence withers and dies." the glabrezu growls out and chuckles. Hearing the unnatural rattling noise has an effect that is similar to an ice pick being driven into my ear.

"That sounds… very unpleasant, and I must decline your offer. My apologies."

Before the fiend has any chance to respond, I immediately channel all of my magical energy into the buildings bordering the street and force the material to break apart and then compress back violently around the creature in an instant. With no intention of heroics or becoming a senseless martyr, I flee once again in a roundabout route to where my companions would hopefully be waiting, able to travel much faster on my own.

In a short duration, I reach the Singing Vortex and carefully avoid the raucous profusion of Ciphers enjoying their drinks and company outside in its open-air saloon. I scan the bodies around me and rapidly work my way spireward until I catch sight of them casually lounging in the shadows of a clock tower.

The intoxicated dwarf is the first to spot my approach, and again, I am surprised at his perception and annoyed by his manner of greeting when he shouts, "Well I'll be a piked up Hive harlot! Look, the sodding idiot hasn't hit the blinds yet!"

"What'cha do to the tanar'ri?"

"There's no time for explanations. Where is the door?"

Zent growls and angrily strides over to the crumbling archway of an abandoned dwelling. She thrusts an object that I am not able to identify into the opening and is flung back when electricity surges to fill the bound space in reaction to the proximity of the key. The portal materializes, through which I can see nothing.

"Where exactly in Limbo does this lead?"

"You and all yer damn questions!" she hisses, and then lunges at the portal and disappears from view.

One by one, the others go through as well, until I find myself standing alone. Recognizing my final chance to desert this reckless mission, an undertaking that would be made all the more dangerous by the presence of not just a single individual of chaotic neutral alignment, but _four_, I hesitate.

In the distance, I hear a deafening crash followed by piercing screams. Sensing that the rift is beginning to close, I sigh in resignation and step into the plane of Chaos.


End file.
